Awesome Mix, Volume 3
by LegendaryStarCat
Summary: Kitty Pryde and Peter Quill have a night out. In space. Clearly it doesn't go well. Shadowcat/Star-Lord
1. Hair

"I like your hair curly."

This was the first time anyone had ever said that to Kitty Pryde. She looked vaguely shocked; Peter just grinned.

"It's really cute like that."

She smiled, sheepish. "Well, I don't exactly have a straightener in space."

"Why do you even bother straightening it? It looks really good all curly and wavy."

"It's totally impossible to control," but Kitty was practically beaming at Peter. Since she came back from England, she had tried to hide the curl of her hair, the untamed, unabashed Jew-fro-iness of it. First, she cut it short, and that worked for a while, but as soon as it grew out, it fluffed out as well. In college, she had tried desperately to tame it. Waking up at 6 am every morning to straightening it. Slicking it back with gel at night when she worked at the bar. She continued the straightening process when she started working at the Academy, and on the days when she gave up completely, she just pulled it back into a painfully tight ponytail. She spent years wishing her hair would stop being so uncontrollable.

But suddenly, with Peter smiling at her, touching her curls softly, that wish went away.

"Do you really like it?"

"Yeah! Totally and completely!"

She smiled at him. "Well," she wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. "I like yours the way it is, too."

He giggled and blushed, "ready to go?"

She nodded and they kissed.

Hey, if you're in space, you might as well go to a space club, right?


	2. I'm Your Boogie Man

Peter had, at the behest of Kitty, not worn the powder blue tuxedo that Tony had sent him the schematics of. Instead, he opted for an almost equally embarrassing white suit, with flared pants and a red shirt that hung open, flashing his chest, freckled with light hair.

"You look like you stepped off the cover of Saturday Night Fever." Kitty said, rolling her eyes a little.

"1977, a classic. John Badham. John Travolta." Kitty snorted and shook her head affectionately. "I mean, it's no Flashdance, but..."

"Alright, boogie boy," she took his arm, "let's get going huh?"

Peter took a step back, taking her hand and spinning her around. Kitty giggled as she spun, the skirt of her blue gown rising to hip level, revealing her legs, feet en pointe even in high heels. It was hard not to go into ballet mode, even just a little, when Peter spun her so well.

Though she was dwarfed by Gamora (and Angela. And Carol), Kitty had managed to take some of their unused clothes and frankenstein them into the calf length, off-the-shoulder, royal blue dress she wore. She hated to admit it, but it looked a little like the iconic red dress from Saturday Night Fever. This was not intentional.

"You look beautiful, Kitty." Peter smiled and fingered the star-shaped hair clip that Carol had loaned Kitty to tame her curls slightly and pull them to right side of her face so her hair cascaded over one shoulder.

She blushed. "Well, you know, I left my Flashdance leotard at home, so I have to work with what I have."

Peter grinned and they both laughed.

"So, where is this nutty alien club we're going to, Quill?"

"Well..." Peter started, but he was interrupted by Lydia, his ship's onboard personality.

"It's on the outskirts of Knowhere." The floating pink head entailed, nodding to a video she popped up which displayed the skull-like planet, orbited by asteroids and small moons that had been brought into it's massive gravitational pull. "It's on this pseudo-moon." The video zoomed in onto a lavender colored orb and revealed that it was pulsing and changed colors softly. "Or inside it." The video shut off. "It's a total shit hole."

"Lydia!" Peter reddened. "Not a shit hole!"

"Not respectable," Lydia countered.

"Totally awesome."

"And very cheap."

"Nuh uh!"

"And full of criminal scum."

Peter threw his hands in the air and huffed. "Untrue! Or mostly untrue! Not entirely true..."

Kitty laughed. "Peter, it's fine, this isn't my first time at the shitty bar rodeo. I worked at a bar in college. I've dealt with all sorts of unsavory characters throughout my entire life. I think I can deal with a scummy club."

"Not scummy..." Peter pouted stubbornly. Kitty patted his back, consoling him.

"I'm sure it's a great dance club. But why don't we just go and see for ourselves?"

Peter smiled and nodded, taking her by the waist. "Lydia, don't wait up, we'll see you when we see you!"

"Odds are 10 to 1 that you're back in an hour, yelling at me to floor it."

Peter rolled his eyes, "Kitty, if you will!"

And with that, they phased through the hatch of the ship and landed on the moon orbiting Knowhere known as the Celestial's Heart.


	3. Girls Got Rhythm

Inside the Celestial's Heart, the club thumped like its namesake, pulsing to the beat of the bass. Alien races of all kind intermingled, dancing, drinking brightly colored, complicated looking drinks, swaying in dazed states in dark corners. As much as Lydia had played it to be a trash heap, the Heart was as calm as any dance club or bar might on a Saturday night. There were no active brawls, talk was loud, but calm, and most of the attendants seemed mellowed but what could only be space drugs.

A willowy Technark stood behind a DJ booth, sunglasses over his hollowed out eyes, his long, wired, tentacled fingers ebbing and flowing as he scratched at records and plugged himself in to speakers. Warlock would have been impressed, Kitty thought idly as Peter pulled her on to the dance floor.

Peter was...well, he wasn't a terrible dancer, but he was certainly a unique dancer. His moves were wide and expressive, and absolutely referential of Mick Jagger meets early Michael Jackson with a touch of David Bowie weirdness. And the entire time, he was grinning so broadly, so happily, Kitty couldn't help but feel like she should just go along for the ride.

They danced, hands clasped and released, bodies thrumming to the beat, Peter spinning and dipping her occasionally, and at other times he did solo moves. At one point he attempted a split, which was quickly aborted due to the steadily growing crowd on the dance floor.

"Who knew aliens were into Janelle Monae and...what sounds like breaking glass?" Kitty commented loudly in Peter's ear as he pulled her close to him for a moment.

"Oh yeah," Peter nodded, "that's a Gegku thing. I think the shattering sound is like," he spun her and pulled her back into him, "meant to represent the oppressive nature of Feudal government versus the helplessness of total freedom." He held her close, dipping her from her waist in a wide circle. "Or something?"

"Go figure," Kitty said to no one in particular.

"Yeah, but Technarks are super into that Electric Lady album, cause it's all about being an android or something?" He spun her out, and she would have bumped into a Rhunian who looked an awful lot like Namor dressed in leather with a fu manchu, except that Rhunians radiate anti-gravitons, so Kitty was thrust back into Peter's arms. Peter totally played it off like it was intentional. It obviously wasn't.

Kitty thought it was probably pretty hard to have a Rhunian as a dance partner.

After a while, they took a break from dancing. Peter slouched down on a bar stool, holding up his fingers in a 'v' to order two waters. Kitty perched on the stool beside him.

"This has been fun. And surprisingly uneventful!"

Peter smiled at her and nodded. Something sparkled in the distance behind her head. He squinted in confusion and then frowned. "Uh oh..."

"Peter, what's-?"

"Bad news bears, we've got trouble coming!" He stood up. Kitty shot up and took his arm, following his line of sight.

"Oh dear."

She phased just in time as a laser shot through them and shattered the glass bar, spraying colorful liquids everywhere.

"More like 'oh shit.'" Peter murmured.

They were being chased by assassins.


	4. Ballroom Blitz

"Peter, I swear to god, this is the last time I save you from being kidnapped by you megalomaniac father!" Kitty shouted.

"Please don't say that," Peter shouted back. "I think that may be exactly where this is going!"

Kitty phased them from another blast, which shattered the bottles of neon colored alcohol behind the bar, while Peter scrambled for her element gun. Ripping off his white jacket, he pulled it from the holster from behind his back. Who knew 70s tailoring was so restraining.

"I didn't love that jacket," Peter mumbled, mostly to himself.

"What?" Kitty shouted, shoving him out of the way of another blast. As Peter drew his gun, Kitty cartwheeled to a bar stool, flipping it over and delivering a swift kick to the base, separating the long shaft it stood on. Brandishing it like a sword, she waded, phased, through the crowd of still dancing aliens. She didn't know if it was drugs or alcohol or that they were just used to near constant bar fights, but it was a good reminder as to why she didn't really go clubbing. Like, ever.

Peter squinted one eye, aiming three precise shots at the assassins, and one not so precise shot on an alien that looked like a rock monster. The rock man jolted and fell over. One of his friends leaned over and poked his body inquisitively with his toe. Good friend.

Peter did the mental math, three down (stunned. Peter set his phaser to stun), and five to go, two of which Kitty just knocked over the head with her stick. But that's when the doors burst open and more masked assassins came spilling in, pushing through the crowds, knocking aside dancers.

"Well, shit." Peter pressed his ear, helmet folding out over his face. He buzzed the ship. "Lydia, I need you."

Lydia's voice buzzed over his com, "aaaaaaand, time! Not even an hour, Quill."

Peter growled, "come on, Lydia, just get the ship and get over here!"


	5. Don't Stop Till You Get Enough

"Get your head in the game, spaceboy!" Kitty shouted as she swept low, phasing through a crowd of now very confused aliens. Peter fell behind her, trying to make his way through the crowd without the aid of such a usefully-in-that-moment power.

"It's kinda hard when you've gotta dodge like literal actual non-neutonian liquid people." He slipped on the slimy trail of one of them just after he spoke, and his very busy, yet brief life disappointingly did not flash in front of his eyes; instead, an image of Kitty literally passing through a gooey looking gelatinous cube did. She grabbed his arm and hoisted him up with her ever-surprising strength.

"I don't know how you ever survived space without me, Peter." She smiled warmly, her eyes rolling only slightly.

"Not well, and with a lot of creative and impromptu weapons." He grinned back, lopsided.

Their moment was interrupted by a black suited alien assassin coming toward them with a very nasty looking weapon that was a cross between a baseball bat and a porcupine. Right as the alien wound his body back to swing at them, Peter lifted Kitty up by her arms, swinging her between his legs before whipping her back up, feet flying up and coming down on the alien's head.

She giggled. "Who knew you knew how to swing dance!" They grabs on the each other's hands and ran, phasing through the crowd.

"I was in a ska band, of course I know how to swing dance!"

"How very Mighty Mighty Bosstones of you?" Kitty dropped to her knees, sliding across the floor, dragging Peter with her. He grabbed onto her waist as they slid between the two tail-looking legs of one of the assassins, then shot up, still holding her tight, and ran.

They were so close to the exit. So tantalizingly close. Peter could taste the cool air conditioning of the Bad Boy's cabin now. That was when Kitty screamed "duck!" and Peter screamed "where?" just before Peter dropped Kitty in shock at seeing an 8 foot tall, very displeased looking duck. Peter smacked into said duck, which bellowed out a loud, rumbling quack, as Kitty phased past it.

"Eh hehe, sorry." Peter looked up at the duck, which was frowning as much as something with a bill could frown, and rubbed the back of his head. Kitty suddenly popped up between the duck's webbed feet, and grabbed Peter's ankle like she was Indiana Jones and he was her discarded hat. She pulled him straight through the duck (an experience Peter would like never to have again), who let out a surprised "waugh" in response.

"Hey, you think that guy's related to Howard?" He asked, as they passed through the threshold of the emergency exit (yeah, even space outlaws have emergency exits in their bars).

"He wasn't wearing pants or a tribly, so I would say no." Kitty skidded to a stop as Lydia pulled up in front of them. The doors opened just enough for Peter to fastball special Kitty into the cockpit and then jump in after her himself. Just in time, too, because bullets pinged off the hull of the ship.

"Good thing they don't have hull piercing bullets," Lydia said dryly.

"Let's get out of here before they get that idea!" Peter shouted, and they jumped into warp speed.


	6. Cars

"Gee, that was a fun night." Kitty said, with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Her heels were discarded in opposite ends of the ship, and her dress was half unzipped as she lounged upside down on Peter's bed.

Peter, after mourning the loss of his jacket properly, had taken off his suit pants, and was sitting against the bed in his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. "Come on, don't be like that." He dug out a spoonful of ice cream and offered it to Kitty.

She took the offering in a single bite before smiling. "I mean, I don't know what I was expecting, going to a dance club full of outlaws..." she smirked, "including one apparently highly wanted Peter Quill."

"Baby," he grinned, "I'm always wanted."

She rolled her eyes. "Honey, that barely makes sense." She ruffled his hair and wrapped her arm around his neck, her fingers trailing down his chest. "Thank God for Lydia."

Lydia's spritely head buzzed on next to Kitty. "Yeah, thank god for me, Quill." She shot him a haughty look, and Kitty burst out into giggles.

"Thank you, oh great and powerful Lydia, driver of my ship!"

"Hey Lyd, is it possible to do a bounty hunter's equivalent of a Google alert for whenever Peter gets too sought after to go out?"

"Baby, I'm always-" Kitty affectionately slapped his chest to stop him from going on.

"Oh, so you wanna do it like that?" Peter stood quickly, jumping on top of the bed, and Kitty. He kissed her neck and cheeks repeatedly, and tickled her as she squirmed mock-helplessly.

Lydia looked on in pseudo disgust. "Not that you care, but yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'd rather not get shot at from now on..."

Lydia's face fizzled out as Peter and Kitty finished their wild night with some comparatively tame activities.


End file.
